Book XIII · KLINGSOR, part 3 of 10

¶My skill not the half doth tell me, no such master-cook am I, 155 That I know the name of the viands they offered them courteously; The host, and each one of the ladies, their servers were maidens fair, To the knights who sat over against them many squires did their portion bear. For this was the seemly custom, that no squire, in his serving haste, Brushed roughly against a maiden, but ever apart they paced-- 160 And whether 'twas wine, or 'twas viands, they offered unto the guests, In naught was their courtesy harmèd, for so did men deem it best.

¶And a feast they to-day must look on such as no man before had seen, Since vanquished by Klingsor's magic both lady and knight had been. Unknown were they yet to each other, tho' one portal it shut them in, 165 And never a man and a maiden might speech of each other win; And a good thing Gawain he thought it that this folk should each other meet, And much he rejoiced in their gladness, and his own lot it seemed him sweet; Yet ever he looked in secret on his lady and love so fair, And his heart it waxed hot within him, and love's anguish he needs must bear. 170

¶But the day drew near to its closing, and faint waxed the waning light, And fair thro' the clouds of heaven gleamed the messengers of the night, Many stars so bright and golden, who speed on their silent way When the night would seek for shelter in the realm of departing day; And after her standard-bearers, with her host doth she swiftly tread-- 175 Now many a fair crown golden in the palace hung high o'erhead, And with tapers they all were lighted around the stately hall, And they bare unto every table a host of tapers tall; And yet the story telleth that the Duchess she was so fair, That ne'er was it night in her presence tho' never a torch were there! 180 For her glance was so bright and radiant it brought of itself the day; And this tale of fair Orgelusé full oft have I heard men say. He had spoken, methinks, untruly who said that he e'er had seen A host so rich and joyous, and joyous his guests, I ween; And ever with eager gladness each knight and each gentle maid 185 Looked well on each other's faces, nor shrank from the glance afraid. If friendship they here desirèd, or each other would better know, Then naught of their joy would I grudge them, methinks it were better so!

¶Tho' I wot well there none was a glutton, yet still had they ate their fill, And they bare on one side the tables, and Gawain asked, with right goodwill, 190 If here there should be a fiddler? and many a gallant squire Was skilled on the strings, and gladly would play at the host's desire, Yet were they not all too skilful, and the dances were old alway, Not new, as in fair Thuringia the dances they know to-day.

¶Then they thanked their host who, joyful, would give to their joy its vent, 195 And many a lovely lady in his presence danced well content, For goodly their dance to look on, and their ranks, with many a pair Of knight and lady, mingled, and grief fled from their faces fair. And oft 'twixt two gentle maidens might be seen a noble knight, And they who looked well upon them in their faces might read delight. 200 And whatever knight bethought him, and would of his lady pray Reward, if for love he served her, none said to his pleading Nay. Thus they who were poor in sorrow, and rich in joy's fairest dower, With sweet words, by sweet lips spoken, made gladsome the passing hour.

¶Gawain and the Queen Arnivé, and Sangivé, the dance so fleet 205 Would look on in peace, for they danced not; then the Duchess she took her seat By the side of Gawain, and her white hand he held in his own a while, And they spake of this thing and the other, with many a glance and smile; He rejoiced that she thus had sought him, and his grief it waxed small and faint, And his joy it grew strong and mighty, nor vexed him with sorrow's plaint. 210 And great was the joy of the lady o'er the dance, and the merry feast, Yet less was the sorrow of Gawain, and his joy o'er her joy increased.

¶Then spake the old Queen Arnivé, 'Sir Knight, now methinks 'twere best That thou get thee to bed, for sorely, I ween, shall thy wounds need rest Has the Duchess perchance bethought her to care for thy couch this night, 215 And tend thee herself, with such counsel and deed as shall seem her right?' Quoth Gawain, 'That thyself mayst ask her; I will do as shall please ye twain!' Then the Duchess she spake in answer, 'He shall in my charge remain. Let this folk to their couch betake them, I will tend in such sort his rest That never a loving lady dealt better by gallant guest; 220 And the other twain, my princes, in the care of the knights shall be, Florand, and the Duke of Gowerzein, for so seemeth it good to me.'

¶In short space the dance was ended, and the maidens in beauty bright Sat here and there, and between them sat many a gallant knight; And joy took her revenge on sorrow, and he who so sweetly spake 225 Words of love, from his gentle lady must a gracious answer take. Then the host must they hear, as he bade them the cup to the hall to bear, And the wooers bemoaned his bidding; yet the host he wooed with them here, And he bare of his love the burden, and the sitting he deemed too long, For his heart by love's power was tortured with anguish so fierce and strong. 230 And they drank the night-drink, and sadly to each other they bade goodnight, And the squires they must bear before them full many a taper bright. And the two gallant guests did Gawain commend to them each and all, And glad were the knights, and the heroes they led forth from out the hall. And the Duchess, with gracious kindness, wished fair rest to the princes twain, 235 And then to their sleeping chambers forth wended the maiden train, And as their fair breeding bade them, at the parting they curtseyed low: Queen Sangivé and her fair daughters they too to their rest would go.